Tuesday, December 13, 2005

I Deeply Begrudge.

This is not a subtle message. This is not part of a novel. This is not a heartcry. This is not a big deal. This is not a conversation. This is not for you. This is not a rant. This is not true-to-life.

He said, "We're kind of scared of parties in the big city. It's so much more manageable here, you know what I mean?"
She said, "Haha, right."
He pressed, "I mean, in the small city, you have your selection, things even out--there's good quality, a balance between unknown and predictable. In the big city it's like a confusing scramble for whatever you can get. Anyway, I don't like speed when applied to parties."
She laughed, "You're mean."
He said, "I like pleasure delaying and flirting across the room, and subtle messages--"
She laughed.
"--and close dancing, and drawn out seduction. That's me."
She was still laughing.
He said, "If you try to draw it out in the big city, whisk, everyone's gone by the time you raise your head. So you adapt, but you don't enjoy as much."
He thought, cocking his head a bit to the side. "Of course, it's also fun to get lost. To where no one notices that you two are missing. Something that doesn't happen in the small city. Obviously."
She laughed. He was beginning to wonder why she found him funny, and if she would ever stop laughing.
He continued, "And someone is invariably counting the seconds outside the door, which inserts another rush factor. But you can ignore them as long as they don't keep knocking."
She said, "Not cool."
"Another downside is regularity," he said. "In the small city you get to be in a regular thing with regular people and it's hard to break out and challenge new horizons. In the big city--ruts are impossible. Just not statistically possible, with the sheer amount of figures."
"What's wrong with regular people?" she asked.
He said, "Well, regular people are fine--great, in fact. But say you want to do something you've never done before for the night. It's hard to do when you and EVERYONE ELSE IN THE CITY is used to you doing a certain thing, or number of things. You have a lot of eyes on you, and a lot of comments later."
She said, "Screw the rest of the city."
"I know." His eyes sparkled, "I like screwing the rest of the city. But it raises eyebrows. And disappoints people. That's my main problem. It is heartbreaking to come in and see someone lying on the couch asleep, alone, and know that it's your fault."
She said, "Right. Then you didn't do it the right way."
"Either that or they didn't. Either way, something goes wrong. And then does the next time. And maybe the next time. Basically it boils down to: you can't make everyone happy, all the time--something that I deeply begrudge. But, oh well. You do what you can."
She said, "I don't think so. If there's a problem every time, maybe you're missing something."
He said, "It's just that feeling that slams into you like a cold wind when you first snap back to reality. The feeling that, oh yeah, there was someone else. It makes you feel stupid and calloused."
She repeated, "I'm sure you're missing something."
"Missing something?"
"For instance, you should have remembered 'them' before it was an issue."
He said, "Well you know. Maybe you were remembering them all night, but then someone else gets ahold of you. --And then: oops. I'm not talking about any certain occasion here. Just a pattern."
Her eyes clouded, "Which makes it worse."
"Oh, I know," he said.
"If it's an occasion it's okay. If it's a pattern, it's a problem."
She was right. "But you know, God looks on the heart," his voice cracked. "And I don't mean any wrong. No one does."
She said, "By this shall all men know that ye are My disciples if you have love."
He closed his eyes, "I just want to make people happy. That's all."